An imaginary diary

Dear Diary

I had to go and see Mor after my bath. First time in a fortnight.

I have been going to Junior Starmakers sessions. Mor was very cross with me. I applied myself to my lessons too diligently, she said.

Let me explain. My first lesson was to learn how to stare really really hard with my eyes open and not blink, like Mor does to the cameras.

Now she is saying I have to change how I stare because I'm staring like Princess Michael's dad in Germany when he was young & about to order an unfortunate off to have a medical experiment. Like, hello, how can I control my irises? They are little points because I'm pissed off with the world. How can I frigging well dilate them when Lille Pige is right in front of me? Not to mention my cousins over on the right annoying Mor just by looking aristo - so we'll all cop it later at home. Regency-fop-in-waiting Niko gets my goat.

Speaking of goats, Mor has been complaining that her favourite website, Royal Dish, has nicknamed me "Busy Bubble" or something like that. She sits and swears at the computer. I keep saying, get off the frigging machine, Mor, if you don't like it, and let me at a few grown-up sites. But she's addicted. She's on that site all the time. It must be a homage to her or she wouldn't bother.

So, I have pale blue eyes with pinpoint irises. Since when has that been unusual in Danish royal circles? Mor had another whinge when her website called me Ceausescu. Family friend, Mor! That's a compliment.

Anyway back to Starmakers. I'm not cut out for it. My nannies keep telling Mor, I'll never be a Nik. And in any case, she'd have to spare some of her wardrobe money so I can wear little suits like Niko. The freebies for Mor from the fashion houses have dried up lately, something to do with her public profile - except, she reckons they are trying to get stuff onto Auntie Marie. Marie doesn't care about brands though. She just wears what she likes. Anyway, if Mor's "cranky, turned away" profile is what is worrying them, it's fine with me. If staring at Mor's cranky face keeps Pa on the scotch and oot da waugh in the northern wing, that's just fine with all of us.

Mor and Pa have had a couple of encounters in the corridor lately. Why they can't just take different routes around the house is beyond me. But Mor keeps sneaking around hunting for Auntie Katya. Katya's kinda nice. She let me look at great-grand-mor's real ruby parure last Sunday! Papa Fred has the real one now and Mor has a fake - granny had a replica made because they found a miniature pick thing in Mor's bedside drawer, and a whole pile of the rubies in a matchbox. They tested the parure and Mor had swapped heaps of them over for glass ones. Great-auntie Benedikte said she couldn't believe Mor did it on her own, because she has such big clumsy hands.

So, I went to see Mor, she checked out my stare, told me to stop telling the nannies I love them, and followed me upstairs just so she could take the reindeer hide out of my bed AGAIN and put it on the floor. She said if I want a comforter I can have an old teddy bear. It's OK though. The nannies put it back in my bed as soon as Mor had closed the door. They know they have to do exactly what I want or they're in trouble.

WELL that little encounter with Mor threw me and I can't remember whether I'm having supper with Pa or with Mor or with the nannies this evening. Mor forgets half the time anyway, which is handy. I used to hate it when it was Pa day in case he got all maudlin and emotional on me. But now that he's living with Katya in his quarters, he's perfectly normal.

I overheard the nannies the other day and they said I might turn out fine. Like I care! I turn out how I turn out, and f*ck the lot of youse. That's what Auntie Amber taught me to say. Katya doesn't like it when I swear at Mor and Isabella and the servants and the nannies and Ziggy. But she still gives me a big hug and doesn't worry about anything. I love Auntie Katya x x x x x x x she is a real woman.

XXXian